


a pair of eyes with a come-hither gleam

by malachiical



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Upcoming Oral Implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 14:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20211628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malachiical/pseuds/malachiical
Summary: Mothman follows a young man whose life he saved in the woods. He's drawn to disasters.





	a pair of eyes with a come-hither gleam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kiraly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/gifts).

> Written to the song [Mr. Sandman by the Chordettes](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CX45pYvxDiA), which is obviously the best possible prompt for Mothman.

“It really wasn’t as creepy as it sounds.”

The being that was known—and was very aware of being known—by the local population as ‘Mothman’ followed the sound of boots crunching against the grass and leaves on the ground. The voice was rough with sleepiness, but vibrant, exuberance pushing that fatigue under the surface. More than that, the voice was familiar, and for once, he let himself be drawn towards a human out of curiosity.

“Yeah, I mean— If literally anyone else had been scrabbling around at my window in the middle of the night, I’d want a restraining order? Duh. That’s not normal human behavior. But this isn’t exactly a normal human situation, is it?”

There was a pause from the young man as he listened to his friend.

“It’s _not_ bad vampire novel creepy. Look, I don’t think you get it.”

A sigh, less weary than frustrated, but with no real bite of irritation. Leaves rustled, and it was impossible to avoid that, but Mothman tried to rustle them as quietly as possible as he drew closer into a nearby tree. And he recognized this human, familiarity solidifying as the voice attached itself to the messy brown hair and slightly fatigue-bruised eyes he had certainly seen before.

“It wasn’t like he was trying to get in— Yeah, ‘he’. I mean, he’s Moth-_man,_ right? And he looked, I don’t know. Smart. So ‘it’ doesn’t seem right.”

He considered that. The young man had his cell phone balanced on his shoulder, head tilted so that it was tucked firmly in there, and Mothman cocked his head as well. So he was looking for him? He had a sense of irony, or had at least developed one in his time here, and he felt suddenly satisfied by the fact that he was following a human who was actively searching for him. He didn’t often do that, but he might have to more often if it was this gratifying.

“Anyway, he wasn’t trying to get in. It was like he just wanted my attention. And, I mean, glowing red eyes, huge wings, talons at my second floor window, he _got_ my attention—I couldn’t sleep the rest of the night, if I hadn’t been awake I could have died. The batteries were _dead,_ dude, I didn’t even know it, I could’ve died of smoke inhalation.”

Disasters. He could see them coming, was drawn to them. Not because he liked them; there was something else about them, some kind of energy that was like… He supposed the name that humans had given him was accurate. It was like a flame for moths. Bright and warm but potentially deadly if you got too close, and irresistible in some way.

“I’ve hardly been able to sleep since then. When I do, I keep dreaming about him.”

Maybe it was just danger he was drawn to. This young man felt enticing in this moment, too; the feeling was _not_ just curiosity.

The young man snorted then, depreciative. “Yes, I am gay. Genius. Have you met me? Whatever, the point is, he showed up and warned me. He saved my life. And I know he’s real now. I can’t believe you _didn’t_ want to come look for him. Aren’t you the guy who wants to break into every old run-down building to ghost hunt?”

A pause. The young man stopped for a moment, glancing around to figure out which way to go next, and he climbed carefully into the branches over him, overtaking him instead of following behind.

“Uh-huh. No, I’m gonna have to say that ‘hugeass probably-alien with red eyes and a ten foot wingspan who definitely exists’ is cooler than maybe-ghosts, actually.”

Mothman dropped down from the trees. The young man’s jaw dropped.

“I gotta go,” he said faintly, and this time Mothman was close enough that he heard the start of the protesting question from the other side of the phone before the young man hung up. And looked up.

“You, um, you really are tall.”

He opened his mouth. He had come to understand English, but didn’t bother to speak it; his mouth, beaklike and with long fangs, did not make the right shapes and his voice was not suited for human sounds. Still, he wanted to know, since he knew this human by voice and by form now, and so he managed a close approximation: “N-aaaame?”

“Fuck. Uh. Ben. Benjamin. Starcher.” Ben took a deep breath. “You’re Mothman. I mean, that’s what we call you. Do you have a real name, or…”

Mothman felt satisfied to know Ben’s name now, and wished he could share that feeling. Instead, he opened his mouth and gave a short series of clicks and shrieks, knowing it wasn’t exactly something that humans could pronounce (or would enjoy pronouncing).

“Oh. Okay. That’s fair.” Ben cursed, suddenly, and said in a rush, “I don’t know what do now that I found you. I don’t even know why I came looking. To thank you, I guess. To prove to myself I’m not crazy? Holy shit. Those wings are the only thing ‘moth’ about you.”

In response, Mothman flexed his wings out, as far as they could go. All ten feet of them. Ben jumped slightly, eyes darting over him and then back up to his face almost guiltily.

“Anyway. You saved my life, doing that… disaster thing you do, I guess, so… Thank you. I hope you aren’t going to eat me now.”

Mothman’s beaked mouth could not approximate a smile; that was a very human expression, nothing like his own. But his eyes could and did flash red, and disaster drew him forward and down to his knees, his taloned hands finding Ben’s hips.

Ben turned almost as red as his eyes, and he licked his soft lips, his hands tentatively going to touch the long, soft feathers covering Mothman’s head. “Never mind,” he said quietly. “I take that back.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I listened to "Mr. Sandman" on repeat in order to write this, but the entire time I was writing I could only think of [this](https://kazoo-goddess.tumblr.com/post/159509705642/). So I hope you enjoy that.
> 
> Also, I didn't get to describe Mothman as much as I wanted but just picture, like, an eight-foot-tall jacked dude who looks like [this statue](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e3/Mothman_statue_in_West_Virigina.jpg) basically. IDK if I'd let him give me a blowjob, but I mean, Ben _is_ a disaster!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this fic and had a great time in the exchange!


End file.
